The command team was moving up into the tower.
Episode Eleven / Chapter Three
Asher made his way up the front steps and through the threshold into the second castle. It wasn’t until he was inside that he felt the pressure fade, the air grow lighter and less gritty. He was immediately able to breathe more easily, move without the sensation that he was pushing against a thick, membranous layer.
The main hall looked very much like the main hall of the previous castle. Lisa and Ramos were sitting on the floor with their backs against right wall, their backpacks beside them. Susan and Church were sitting on the bottom steps of the staircase. Susan didn’t look well and Church looked concerned.
Asher slid out of his backpack and tossed it aside as he walked across the room. “Susan, you all right?”
Susan nodded without looking up. Church placed an arm around her shoulders.
“The journey across was rather difficult for all of us,” he said.
Asher certainly agreed with that. He looked around the room again, then more closely at Susan. She looked drained. And she looked dazed. “Susan?”
Susan managed to lift a hand and wave dismissively.
“The fog is beginning to clear,” said Church.
Asher scratched at his scalp. “That was unsettling, wasn’t it?”
“And just what was it, this unsettling thing?” asked Ramos.
“I do have a thought,” sighed Church. “I could very well be wrong, but… a thought.” He pulled his arm back from around Susan’s shoulders, leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He gave a welcome smile to Costa as the sergeant came in.
“Is everyone all right?” she asked. She looked as though she had come through a great challenge still strong.
“Doctor Church was just about to tell us what it was we just experienced,” said Ramos.
“Then don’t let me interrupt. Do continue, Doctor.” Costa slipped out of her backpack and set it down beside Asher’s.
“Yes,” Church went on. “As I said, I may be wrong. However, I do not believe that our journey from the previous castle to this one was a physical journey. I think the landscape that we traversed was in fact a mental landscape.”
“Illusion?” asked Costa.
“Interpretation. We conferred a physical representation of our journey between castles as best our minds were capable.”
“But the same interpretation?” asked Asher doubtfully.
“A shared landscape.”
“This isn’t like the floors, is it, Doctor?” asked Ramos.
“Nothing like the floors, Corporal. As ethereal as the floors we have come to know and love may be, they do have a real physical presence. What we traversed just now… did not.”
§
The elevator door slid open. Captain Adamson and General Wong stepped out first, the others coming out behind them and moving to either side.
They were on the top landing above an open-air, Greek-style amphitheatre, with terraced rows of stone bench seating descending down to a small stage at the bottom of the half-bowl. Above them was a clear night sky filled with unfamiliar star constellations.
Banister turned at the sound of the elevator door sliding closed. It was set into a high wall that enclosed the back of the amphitheatre.
Sgt. Miller sent Johansen and Carmody to the right before he started in the other direction. Lt. Quinn asked if he’d like some company and followed after him. They would look for any potential threats and then a watch would be posted at either end.
Adamson and General Wong looked to Quinn’s retreating figure before looking at one another, both wondering the same thing.
“He’ll be fine, sir,” Adamson said at last.
“I’m sure you’re right,” said the general. And at that they let the matter drop. He looked about them, at the rows of seats below them. “Ancient Greek amphitheatre,” he suggested.
“Or someone’s impression of one,” said Dr. Lake. Lake and Banister were standing several rows below them.
“Why a theater, do you suppose?” asked Adamson.
“Show time,” offered Banister.
“Yes,” whispered Lake. He nodded thoughtfully. “This could be it, then.”
“Perhaps she can shed some light on matters,” said Wong. He indicated a figure that had appeared on the stage floor below. It was Elizabeth Owen.
“Let us find out,” said Banister. He started down. Lake and the Wong followed a few steps behind.
“Elizabeth,” called Banister. “So good to see you.”
“Hello, Wes,” said Owen. She smiled, waited then for Banister to reach the first row. “It is good to be seen.”
Once down on the stage floor, Banister reached out and gave Owen a hug.
“Doctor Owen.” General Wong was still several rows up. “You appear well. Might I ask… where is Major Connelly?”
“Hell if I know, General. We were talking, and then she stopped talking. And then she mumbled something, and then she was gone.” She looked from the general to Lake and finally back to Banister.
“Ya’ know, I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm. You don’t seem all that surprised to see me.”
Banister turned about and looked up into the rows of seating rising up from the stage floor. He spoke casually.
“I am not. I expected it; considering where we are.” He cocked an eyebrow back in Owen’s direction. “Just where are we, anyway?”
“Not sure. Somewhere on the eightieth floor.”
§
Asher came into the front hall from the direction of the downstairs hallway. He found Susan sitting at the foot of the staircase. She looked a lot better than she had a few hours earlier. She glanced up at him.
“How’re things looking, Peter?”
“I’d have to say this castle looks a whole lot like the last castle,” said Asher.
“And I’d have to say it looks exactly like the last castle.” Susan turned side-glance to Asher. “Do you think it could actually be—”
“That’s kind of where my thinking is taking me.” He sat down beside her. As they talked, a gray shadow drifted up the staircase behind them and into the upstairs hall.
§
A few moments later, Connelly stepped out onto the balcony of an upstairs room at the back of the castle. The Acolyte stood beside her. They remained silent for a time, taking in the scene before them. A sandcastle was forming in the distance. As it did so, a path began to take shape leading from one castle to the next.
“What brings you here, Major Connelly?” asked the Acolyte. “Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
“I was drawn here.”
“Ah. There are strange happenings, to be sure.”
They fell silent again. Connelly finally turned to look directly at the Acolyte.
“I know who and what I am,” she stated.
“I am glad. It should always have been so.”
“And you. You serve the one who walks,” said Connelly.
The Acolyte smirked. “To serve the one is to serve. There is no other. Though, meaning and direction are not always clear.”
“Less so as the time of change draws near, I would imagine.”
“Let us say that it is good that it comes soon.” He indicated the landscape before them. “As is evident before us, the Creator of All Things has experienced complications during his recovery.”
“I have sensed there was something wrong for some time, but have been unable to attribute these feelings to anything specific.”
“All to be sorted out soon enough.”
Major Connelly considered the Acolyte’s tone. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“As I said, it is good that it comes soon.”
“And yet?”
The Acolyte looked sharply at Connelly, then focused his attention again to the evolving landscape spread out before them.
“What of us? When the one who sleeps awakens?” he asked.
“I don’t un
derstand. What does it matter? There is but the purpose.”
“The purpose,” the Acolyte sighed darkly.
“As his manifestation in the waking world, I serve the one who sleeps until he wakes. That is my purpose.”
From behind them, within the castle of sand, there came the sounds of conversation as the members of the team gathered together in the main hall downstairs. It was warm, and bonding… and alien.
“That is so,” conceded the Acolyte. “But what will the awakening mean for you and me?”
She did not answer. In truth, she did not have an answer.
§
Banister and Owen had been sitting at the bottom row of the amphitheater for more than half an hour. Banister had said little during that time, leaving Owen to detail Connelly’s revelations about who she was and of what she knew of the Adversary. Finishing, Owen leaned back and folded her arms.
“Interesting, eh? Worth the mystical reappearance of one such as myself?”
Banister furrowed his brow as he sought out some deeper meaning to it all. “One who sleeps and one who walks,” was all he could manage to say.
“And let us not forget… there is in fact only one,” said Owen. “Major Connelly was quite insistent on that point.”
“A curious riddle. When is two but one?”
“Maybe the Adversary is dreaming.”
“And while the Adversary sleeps, the dream walks? I don’t think so. Too many questions it does not address.” He turned and looked questioningly at Owen. “But you were there. You were in the Great Hall. You saw the Adversary.”
“Hell, I don’t know where I was. It could have been the Great Hall. It could have been the Great Bathroom. And I never said I saw the Adversary. I said I felt his presence.”
“Hmm. So you did.” Banister thought a moment. “So, which flavor of the Adversary did you brush shoulders with?”
“Hazarding a guess… the one who sleeps.”
“Hmm,” Banister muttered again. “Why so?”
“He seemed less antagonistic.”
“I see.” Banister scowled. “And we’re dealing with the one who walks?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Wes,” said Owen. “Remember what Connelly said. There is one.”
“Perhaps two personalities fighting it out for control. That would explain the adversarial aspect to our little game.”
Owen shook her head. “Eh… you’re not thinking nearly alien enough.”
Episode Eleven / Chapter Four
Asher waited outside the front threshold of the next castle, looking back the way they had come for some sign of Sgt. Costa. The air was filled with blowing sand and visibility was very limited. This latest crossing had been worse than the last, and as they grew further and further apart everyone had quickly lost sight of one another. Then, midway across, came the sandstorm.
Church came out onto the landing and stood beside Asher.
“Any sign of her?” he asked. Sgt. Costa had brought up the rear, as always, and she was still out there somewhere.
“Here she is now,” said Asher. He could just make out Costa’s silhouette a few yards beyond the foot of the steps.
Once they were inside, Costa scanned the faces of those in the room as she slipped out of her backpack. “All safe and sound; good.”
“Welcome home,” Ramos said cynically. “Same… damn… home.”
Costa began brushing sand out of her hair. “So I see.”
“Do we just keep slogging our way from castle to castle, knowing we’ll always come right back to the same one?”
Costa looked to Church. “What say, Doctor?”
“Considering what happens to each that we leave behind, I wouldn’t recommend staying.”
“The castles do seem to be less than permanent.” The last castle had begun to disintegrate while they were still inside.
“I still don’t get it,” said Ramos. “How is it we can see the next castle while we’re in the last one, and the last one is always destroyed after we leave it, and yet when we go to the next one we always end up right back at the same castle that we just saw destroyed?”
“Careful there, Ramos; you’ll hurt yourself,” said Costa.
“As I have said, Corporal,” said Church. “I do not believe we are at present in a physical realm. What we see is our interpretation of a mental landscape. The sandcastles, their disintegration and rebirth, and our journey between them, all are representative of what is happening at this moment in the mind of our host.”
“If that be so, Doctor Church, then our host is one seriously messed up dude.”
“Quite so,” said Church.
“So what do you suggest we do, Doctor?” asked Lisa. “Keep on going? To what end?”
Asher had been leaning a shoulder against a wall, listening to the back and forth. He nodded now in the direction of the front entrance.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” he said.
Sand from the storm was working its way in, and the jam around the threshold looked to be dissolving.
“Okay folks. Break’s over,” sighed Costa. And with that everyone grudgingly got to their feet and grabbed their gear, began dragging themselves down the hall to the room at the back of the castle.
The view through the portal looked inviting. The world beyond was bathed in sunshine and clear skies. Ramos gave a thumbs-up and went through first. The others followed in the same order as always; Lisa, then Church, and then Susan. Asher gave a positive wink to Costa and followed Susan.
Once through, Asher started away from the castle portal, took in the warm sunshine and the brush of a breeze against his face.
He noted then something quite odd.
Ahead of him along the path was Dr. Church; and ahead of Church was Lisa and then Ramos.
There was no sign of Susan.
§
A clear plastic canister rested on a narrow table in the center of the amphitheatre stage. Standing beside the seven foot long canister were Major Connelly and the Adversary.
The Adversary was tall and slim, a light-complexion and jet-black hair pushed behind his ears. He was dressed in casual dark trousers, a button shirt and a light windbreaker. His eyes sparkled.
He was just as he had appeared to Connelly in the park.
He and Major Connelly were looking at the prone figure within the canister. It was also the Adversary; it was the Creator of All Things. He appeared to be sleeping.
The others of the command team had been scattered about the amphitheatre. None had seen just when the canister had appeared, but seeing it now they stood and slowly descended the rows of seats to the stage.
“Major Connelly…” the general said softly. “Who is your friend?”
“This is the Creator of All Things.” She may have been referring to the figure standing beside her, or the figure in the canister. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
“I see.”
Connelly rested a hand on the canister. “The one who sleeps.”
“It is a dream then?” Banister asked skeptically. “All of this? I can’t believe that.”
“No, Doctor Banister,” Connelly stated. “Not a dream.”
The one standing beside Connelly looked down upon the canister, placed a hand beside Connelly’s on the plastic lid. “I sleep, and I walk.”
§
Susan walked cautiously across a chamber of bright white floor and walls and high ceiling. The great room was empty but for a sarcophagus-like canister resting on a table.
Susan stood beside the canister, looked down at the face of the figure sleeping within. The Acolyte stepped up beside her. He was dressed in his monk robe. He pulled back his hood.
“Hello, Doctor Bautista.”
Susan glanced briefly up at the Acolyte but said nothing.
The Acolyte looked warmly at the figure in the canister. “A kind soul,” he said. “Quite gentle, really.”
“Evidence to the contrary,” said Susan.
�
��Yes, well…” the Acolyte smiled sympathetically. “There is much you do not understand.”
“What am I doing here? Where are the others?”
“To be honest, Susan, I am a bit surprised to see you.” The Acolyte stepped around the canister, placed a hand affectionately on the clear plastic lid. He looked in at the face.
“The Creator of All Things has been traveling the galaxy for thousands of years. An explorer; no… a seeker; a seeker of knowledge, of understanding, of wisdom.” The Acolyte took in the room around them. “He survives the long journeys between the stars here, in this chamber.”
“He’s asleep?”
The Acolyte shrugged. “Awake, asleep… the same. His mind is always active.”
“And this is a spaceship?”
“The one who sleeps and the ship are one.”
“A mental connection?”
“There is but one. The Creator of All Things. The one who sleeps…” the Acolyte looked from the one in the canister to the room around them. “The one who walks.”
§
Reaching the steps, Asher knew that this time it was going to be different. At first glance, the sandcastle looked the same, but it was a little out of focus, as though he was seeing it through a filter that put the image slightly out of kilter.
Taking the steps up to the front landing, he felt as though he was walking through a thousand spider webs. He couldn’t help but brush his hands at the air as he went through the threshold…
And through a portal… leaving behind the bizarre landscape of the sandcastles and coming onto the eightieth floor.
Worn, tattered tapestries hung on the walls of the Great Hall. Hovering thirty feet overhead, a shadowy vaulted ceiling was criss-crossed with a pattern of dark, wooden beams.
A dilapidated, high-backed chair sat on a raised platform in the center of the hall. It was the only furniture in the room.
The others who had come in ahead of Asher had moved off to one side. Ramos and Lisa were looking at one of the faded tapestries. Church was studying the chair from a safe distance, his hands clasped behind his back.
There was no sign of Susan.
A tall shadow materialized beside the chair, forming out of a slowly thickening, inky mist. It had a vaguely human form, though it never stopped taking shape. It was as if the black of space was made of flowing, smoky robes shifting in a breeze.
The Black Tower: The Complete Series Page 34
